i NeVeR
by SecondDaySoreness
Summary: Thanks for ditching me with the socially retarded bachelors in line for your name, L. Honestly, it would have been better for the title L if they never met me. I never expected being Watari's successor to be easy, but how did it end up like this? NxOCxM
1. ReMiNiSCeNCe

Before we begin, some slightly important and somewhat relevant blather from the author.

Setting: Pre-Kira case, mostly Wammy's House. This series takes place slightly AU, still in the Death Note world, but I've changed the timeline just a bit (it will become apparent later on). In the beginning, the events will be entirely of my own mind, it may become more cannon-like later in the series.

Rixchan no can has own Death Note. Only her phail OC. TT-TT

Enough of my blather, let's get started.

LxWxL

CHaPTeR I. ReMiNiSCeNCe

~Alyas POV~

Well, it's official, they decided it.

I'm going to be Watari's successor. The one who does everything but the thinking for L.

The thought of doing what I've been doing for the past month and a half for the rest of my life sounds fun, but it's already giving me a headache. Or maybe that's just a side effect of whatever L made me swallow.

Stupid L is paranoid. Even though he already decided that I should act as Watari if something should happen to Wammy or there's just too much for one person to do, he decided that I should have no clue where I was for the entire second half of the case, as a safety precaution.

He insisted on drugging me to have Wammy drag me out from under his rock.

I feel like tossing. It's not like I was going to tell anyone, and he knew that, but he's just as stubborn as I am.

He said something about it being necessary, he doesn't want me to come back with a bunch of bratty kids, it would make him feel a lot more comfortable, it's pointless for me to know because he'll be leaving soon anyway, doesn't want really want me meddling in affairs until I'm older because of occupational hazards, blah blah blah, derp derp derp.

Whatever. If it appeases His Great Deductiveness like my cooking does, whatever. I can find him if I need to.

The next thing that registers is the sound of rain. The heavy drops strike the windshield and skylight of the car and distort the grey, swiftly-passing picture outside the windows. It's all blurry, my vision is not taking a liking to sleeping pills, apparently.

Anyway, yes, I obviously met L.

Short version: It was quite the experience.

Just get kidnapped in the dead of night by a guy in a trench coat who actually lets you pack your crapload of electronics before dragging you off to meet a socially retarded insomniac genius.

I know I'm smarter than most people, I speak 7 languages at age 13, and being in the same room as him gave me an inferiority complex at first.

But I made him my friend.

I'm not exactly a shy person. I just don't like being around people I'm not interested in. I can if I have to, but it's not a lot of fun.

If someone happens to catch my interest, if I want to be their friend… well that's another matter entirely.

Figuring people out is to Alyas as solving impossible mysteries is to L. An addiction.

I'm very close friends with only a few people, and that's the way I like it.

At first, L and I were far apart. He didn't talk to me other than to tell me to do stuff. But he interested me, and yes, I decided that I would like to be his friend. I had to catch his eye, make him want to get to know me, or he wouldn't.

L wasn't hard to connect with, I stumbled the door to him by accident. The day after I arrived, I made a cake because I had a spare moment and I was in the mood.

L's tastebuds are the direct path to his heart.

Rather simple, considering he's the unfathomable, emotionless superdetective.

When in doubt, be sure you aren't overlooking the obvious.

I spent a month and a half working with L, because the job of Watari was getting too big for Wammy alone with the particular case they were working on. He always ditched me with L to go stand in a police station.

My experience consisted mostly of getting in touch and negotiating with important people using a voice changer, researching things that are next to impossible to find, hacking, and pandering to L's whims (baking things with high sugar content and presenting them to him on silver platters so he can stab them dead with forks).

Oh, and I shot the doorman at the first hotel we were at dead for trying to kill L. He told me to get rid of the body and asked for another piece of cake. We had to move.

Being Watari is kinda harder than it sounds.

He sleeps about 6 hours once every 3 days and is a bottomless pit for anything sweet. Taking care of the best detective in the world can be compared to taking care of an infant. They keep you up all night with requests for food.

And he's weird. But that was more the thing that made it fun.

It's hard to see him as a guy in his 20's. He's seems to have next to no exposure to the world or other people. He's like a socially retarded bachelor gone insomniac.

He reminds me of myself, a little. Barefoot, perpetual bedhead and dark shadows under his wide eyes.

We're friends, though L has strange ways of expressing that. Under his blank, calculating demeanor, L is a child. I think he had a unique past that caused him to be that way.

He says what he thinks without regarding anyone else's opinion, just like a little kid will tell a fat lady she's fat. He sulks when he doesn't get what he wants, he doesn't like losing, he can even be petty. When I squashed a piece of cake in his hair, he shoved his ice cream all over my ear. We both had to shower, so then we fought over who got to first and he just made up some research project and pretended it was urgent to get rid of me.

I threatened to stop baking.

He threatened to dump me back where I came from.

I pointed out that if he did that, he would be researching and contacting people himself. His antisocialness is so bad he doesn't even contact people through a screen unless someone else introduces him and sets up the meeting.

And I pointed out I sure wasn't finding the address of wherever we were at that point to mail him confectionery.

I got to shower first.

L went and pouted in front of a computer screen and ate all the cookies instead of half the cookies, the jerk.

He's also pretty lazy, he was always making me find him stuff (I'm pretty sure he can research for himself) and go out to buy him candy and bring him stuff and bake him cakes and pies and other unhealthy things.

He does drastic things to get what he wants: the answers. He has no regard for his personal health, he just wants to eat sweets and stay up late. Yes, L is a child with a blank façade.

I think he drops that façade a little if he likes you.

I think I got to know both of L's personalities. In the beginning, he was more like a machine, but by the end, we would argue over who's the last piece of cake was without shame. (no, we can't share it, I want the whole thing. And it should be mine, because I made the fricking cake in the first place. What kind of argument is 'because I employ you and I'm the one leading this investigation'? He could be ruling the world, I _still_ would be the one who made the cake and therefore the one with more entitlement to eat the cake! Without me, L, there is no cake! Do not provoke the wrath of your baker!)

Needless to say, by the time the case was solved, my sleeping and eating habits were thoroughly screwed. It's all his fault. And sugar's, for being so addictive.

A smile dances behind my lips as I break out of my reverie, almost showing on my face. I miss him a little already.

I enjoyed his company because I'm an immature genius(?) too. Two of a kind. Yes, I can act my age. Do I enjoy it? No. I like people that I can be a kid around. I still sleep with a giant teddy bear.

Mim is seatbelted in next to me. She was a pretty, pink bear when I got her as a three-year old. Soft, furry fabric, beady, black button-eyes, round, limp body. When I got her, she was taller than I was.

She died. She's a zombie now, because my sewing talent is somewhat questionable. The fur is still soft, but now it's knobby with repeated runs through the drier. It's faded to gray. Both of Mim's arms and one of her legs have been sewed back on with blatant, black or red stitches.

The left paw was messily patched with some purple velvet, and there's a black patch where the teddy's little tail fell off. The seams are puckered with mismatching threads, there are patches all over from 5 or 6 tears. I replaced an ear completely, with debatable success.

Both of Mim's eyes have fallen off, but when I was 8 I lost one, and by then I liked my zombie bear as a zombie, so I sewed on a red, flat one as a replacement. Her button nose fell off a long time ago, and her mouth is a little black x of thread, because once again I suck at sewing.

And I enjoy a bit of creepiness here and there, if you haven't gathered.

I have an irrational attachment to Mim. And that's why it makes me smile noticeably when I see that the split seam on the back of Mim's head has been repaired with black, messy, haphazard stitches that aren't my own.

I broke her again when using her to whap L over the head with her for eating all the muffins when I went to the bathroom. Those were my muffins, stupid L! He could've eaten half of them, and that would've been fine, but no. He ate them all. And then he went and sulked in front of a computer (again) when hit him with my teddy. And said _I_ was immature.

Ha. That's very funny indeed, hypocrite.

I roll my eyes, smirking.

Someone (L) also put my glasses on her. Frameless, full moon lenses. I put them on. It's all in my head, but it feels like I can't see right without them, even though my head is clearing up.

I actually don't need them. My vision is perfect, and they don't actually have any magnification.

They're not mine, and that's why I wear them.

Plus they make me feel like a Harry Potter.

It was nice of L to fix Mim up and not throw my glasses in a bag to be broken. I'm pretty sure it was L. Wammy would have done a better job sewing.

To my credit, I left him the result of a new recipe in the fridge. Chocolate strawberry shortcake. I only ate a piece, and not half of it, which was really, really hard, because it was _awesome._

Wammy is in the front seat, driving. As I said before, Watari does everything but the thinking for L.

I'm Wammy's fangirl. So yes, I played him too. Wammy is friendly, I didn't have to work on him like I had to for L.

The expression on his face was rather priceless when he finally revealed his face to me and I jumped on him babbling about how I admired him as an inventor and it was so gracious of him to open an orphanage for gifted orphans and how he was such a revolutionary thinker.

Now, I don't always tackle-hug people, but when I do, they're elderly (rather unsteady on their feet) and I'm not really supposed to recognize them. So much for Watari's secret identity.

"Hey, can I drive?" I call to him.

"I don't think that would be wise, Ms. Alyas. The drugs cause side effects of drowsiness, dizziness and confusion upon one waking up." He says, watching me in the rear-view mirror.

I'm about to object, but he notices and speaks again.

"We're in England now. I'm sorry, but it's not plausible for a 13-year-old to be driving a vehicle with a license, Ms. Alyas."

I sigh and stick my tongue out. Fine. No driving for me. I mean, if he said yes, (which he wouldn't) I suppose I'd have to back out, because a 13 year old driving is somewhat ostentatious. Can't wait to look like I'm old enough to have a license.

Wammy chuckles. "You make me a little concerned about the trouble you'll get L into when I'm gone." He says, mustache wiggling with the words.

"Don't say that, Mr. Wammy. You have to stay around, or I'll eat ice-cream and sob until I go into a sugar coma and die, and then L will run out of cake because he's lazy and the world will basically implode!"

He chuckles again. "Then, for the sake of the world, when my time comes don't eat so much ice cream it causes you to die."

"That could work. Also, not dying anytime soon would be really great." I say with a smile. Then my tone flicks to serious. "Don't worry though, if something does happen I won't do anything too stupid. I'll do my best for L when you're gone, Mr. Wammy. I can promise you that."

"That's a good thing to hear. I fear I'm getting a little old for this job. It's a great peace to know that there's some young blood willing to take it on."

My eye twitches. "I think I'm kind of concerned now…"

"Don't fret, Ms. Alyas. This old man still has some steam in him."

I let out a sigh of relief. "So, L didn't tell me where he was shipping me off to. Will you?"

"I am the founder of an orphanage for gifted individuals, as you know." Wammy says. "Among these individuals are the ones who are preparing to be successors to the name L." He explains.

I'd researched Quillish Wammy thoroughly, because of his work as an inventor, and it was during this that I found all of this out. (I can be a bit of a stalker.) And when I came across this file labeled 'unimportant' that was not only deleted but corrupted… seems legit and challenge accepted. It took about a week of non-stop work, but I eventually got the data.

"I know. Near, Mello and Matt." I say. They're the only three people who were deleted from the Wammy's House database without any explanation. I did them a favor and wiped out that data for good.

"So I'm going to your institution?" I am an orphan. I take it that he had the foresight not to put my name or face in the place's database. My crazy aunt will hunt me down and demand custody so she can try to take all of my parent's money. But I kind of transferred it to another account that I have access to, so she won't be getting it anytime soon even if she does get her hands on me.

Anyway, that won't happen, because when you're not only kidnapped by L but also trying to disappear, it makes you rather hard to find.

"L decided that it would be best for you to live there and become familiar with them, because it's likely you'll be working with them when you're older. Unless you have strong objections, L would like you to stay there until your assistance as Watari is needed again." Yep. I doubt this place has records if it's a school of super-geniuses for L successors, considering the amount of mystery L insists on burying himself in.

"Okay then, I'll probably see both of you around sometime so you can dump some work on me, right?"

"Most probably, Ms. Alyas."

"Kay cool. Are we there yet?"

"No, Ms. Alyas." He answers, and foreseeing my next question (how much longer?) says: "It will only be a few more minutes though."

I nod.

I like Wammy. He's like a grandfather, but an epic grandfather. I mean, he walks into a police station in a trench coat and one of those dapper hats like one of those cool people in a movie and still gets home in time to pour L tea and make me go to bed (not that I actually go to sleep).

People these days say all the old people can't figure out how to turn a computer on, Wammy gives me a run for my money in hacking into government stuff. He's not technologically impaired, but he still acts like a total sir. He calls me 'Ms.' and I'm 13. And he wears a suit even when he doesn't have to. That gets bonus points, because L's and my slobbish ways of dressing seem to have no effect on him.

L lives in a long-sleeved white T-shirt and baggy jeans. I've never seen him in anything else.

I live in my pajamas. Too long sweats and flannel shirts or cotton T's. Preferably black, white or grayscale, therefore everything matches.

Being a lazy slob without accidentally wearing things make you look like an idiot to a point that they even distract you requires bosslike foresight while shopping. After everything you bought matches everything else you bought, you can stop caring.

Wammy turns off the road onto a gravel one.

This must be the place. It looks more like a mansion than an institution. From what I can see, the building is made of white stone, with square, marble pillars. The gate is open. I shoulder my backpack, grab two of my big tote bags, and unbuckle Mim and myself.

"We're here." Wammy announces. He drops me off at the front door. "I'll be right around, as soon as I park the car. Go right in to the administrator's office."

I nod and step out into the pouring rain, walking swiftly to the door. It's locked. I sigh, swing my bag onto my elbow, transfer my bags to that arm, pull out a wire and pick the lock. It only takes seconds, but that's enough time to drench me.

I actually don't mind being in the rain, but I don't like having wet clothes and hair sticking to me once I'm inside.

Of course, then I have to reset the alarm system, because technically I just broke in. All it takes is unscrewing the plate real quick and pulling out/reinserting a few wires. Who knew I'd have to break into what's supposed to be my new home? Suspicious. I certainly hope L isn't planning to kill me or something.

Great. His paranoia rubbed off on me. The door is locked. They must be plotting my demise. Yes, that's a logical conclusion. I'm Watari's- not L's- successor because I'm resourceful, not straight brilliant.

The tiles on the floor are white with a few smoky streaks of gray, and shiny. Square marble pillars are adorned with gold accents, and the walls are off-white, accents beige and gold. It's like a modern-day palace. I manage a silent tread in spite of my ratty, rubber-soled black converse that happen to be soaked though and prone to squeakiness, scanning the hall. Memorizing the dimensions.

I stop before the white door with the plaque reading 'Administrator's Office'. I knock on the door. Thrice.

"Yes? Whatever it is, come in." The voice of an older man. It isn't particularly friendly.

I open the door and step in. The office is large. Wooden floor, beige walls, gold and red accents. There's a red rug on the floor before the administrator's desk, and a bookcase behind it. The windows on either side of the bookcase have their shades drawn.

And sitting at the desk with his fingers laced together, is an elderly man regarding me like a wet rat.

"Hi." I say, raising a hand in greeting.

"Hmm. You're the new arrival, I suppose." Roger Ruvie says. If I hadn't known his name from researching Wammy and his projects, it would have been apparent from the lovely name plaque reading ROGER RUVIE ADMINISTRATOR on his desk.

"You must be Roger Ruvie Administrator." I reply. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He narrows his eyes at me behind his small, moon-shaped spectacles. His face is wrinkled, his brown eyes are aged, and his hairline is receding. His gray-white hair is pretty neat. "My _name_ is Roger Ruvie. I _am_ the administrator, Ms..."

I pull my silver sharpie from my bag. "Alyas. Would you mind if I corrected your plaque with a comma, seeing how your last name is clearly not Administrator?"

"Yes."

Killjoy.

Roger takes a map. "I suppose we should just get this over with, Ms. Alyas. You will be staying with the three-

"Near, Mello and Matt, I presume?" I interrupt.

He looks annoyed. Annoying people is fun, but I try not to close opportunities by making people dislike me.

Sometimes, shallow relationships can be useful. And having an enemy is just as bad, and usually worse, than having a shallow relationship.

Time to turn on the teacher's-pet-adult's-dream-guest persona and erase the damage done by the comma proposal and interruption. "I'm so sorry for interrupting. I'm just a little overexcited." I say, with a slight blush and a smile, like I've dropped a façade of an infuriating, calm little brat.

It's not actually a façade, in case you haven't noticed.

"As I was saying, you will be residing in suite number 21." He says, still rather miffed. He hands me a map.

"Okay~!" I say, glancing at it and reaching back to shove it in my bag. He appears to be annoyed further. I'll go with keeping my mouth shut now, I think.

"L asked that an exception be made for you, so none of your data is in the Wammy's house database." He says.

Oh, this guy knows about L. And he knows I'm not a normal new arrival.

"You are expected to abide by all the Wammy's House rules." He says, handing me another pamphlet. "It's not required that you attend classes here at Wammy's, but you are still expected to take the ranking test at the end of every week. When the data is put in the computer, you will simply be omitted from the results. If you have questions, ask someone else."

At that moment, Wammy enters, umbrella and wet trench coat in hand, dragging my suitcase and my last bag. I'm still wearing my trench coat over my pajamas. It's long and black and falls to my ankles. I knew I was destined to be a Watari from the moment I discovered he wore a trench coat.

"Ah, Mr. Wammy. It's good to see you again." Roger says, standing. Well, he certainly likes Wammy more than me, I can hear it in his tone.

"Roger, my good friend. How have you been?"

"Well, Mr. Wammy."

"And I see you and Ms. Alyas have already met?"

"Yes, we have." He says, regarding me with some distaste. "We were just about finished."

"Good. I must be getting back. Ms. Alyas, I trust there's nothing you need?" He asks, setting down my luggage.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." I respond.

"Then you best be getting to your room." He says with a smile. "Hopefully, we'll meet again soon."

"Welcome to Wammy's house." Roger says dully.

"Okay, thank you Mr. Ruvie." I say with a smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Wammy. Tell L I said not to eat the entire cake at once if it's not gone by the time you contact him again."

"I fear it will be." Wammy says, chuckling again. "Goodbye, child. Thank you for your hard work. Stay out of mischief."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Wammy, I'll see what I can do." I say, taking my suitcase and stepping out. I drag the door shut behind me.

So… suite 21, huh? I memorized the map, it seems to be an exclusive place. It's in a tower, not the first, second, or third floor. The only suite in a tower. I ascend the staircase, dragging all my crap.

=-= … you think that this billionare-sponsored home for the intellectually brilliant would have an elevator.

End of the hall, third floor. There's a staircase, another one. This one is straight, instead of the spiraling ones that connected the main floors.

I rap on the door. Time to meet my roommates. I'm going to try to be friends with them , I guess. After all, we will be spending a lot of time together.

I saw their pictures. Several years younger, but still. There was something about all 3 of them, almost an L-like look to their expressions, especially Near's and Mellos. I have this feeling that they're going to be very, very interesting people.

"What do you want?" A voice calls.

Well, that sounds promising. I try the doorknob. Locked. "I'm your new roommate! Are ya gonna let me in or do I have to pick the lock?" I call back.

There's a sardonic laugh, and then some muttering (dude, they're gonna break the door!), but I'm already turning the handle.

There's a redheaded guy on the other side of the door. He has orange-tinted goggles on his head, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His hand is frozen where he was reaching for the doorknob. Shocked. Ha. Alyas 1, Mail Jeevas 0. "Ah, you must be Matt." I say, cocking my head. "Pleasurous to meet you."

LxWxL

Another author's note:

I have come to the conclusion that this fanfic is kinda crappy. But I like the idea, so I don't really care. I'll keep writing, and post another chapter soon (I post chapters on a several thousand word delay so i can change things if i need to), so it's already written, I'll put it up as soon as I can find the motivation to edit it. ^w^

This is only my second fanfiction, so please excuse any phails on my part. (Grammar, confusingness, boringness, factual incorrectness, so on and so forth. I'm sorry if anyone is OOC, I tried.)

To all who review/respond in any way, shape or form, thanks. Nothing drains my motivation more than having my stories read but ignored.

Fankschu!

~YouR RiXCHaN~


	2. SoCiaLLY ReTaRDeD BaCHeLoRS

A/N: To all my reviewers and subscribers, AH WUVS CHU! I would tackle hug you if I could. Here's another chapter, it's a longer one because I don't even know when I plan to update again (phail). Hopefully soon, I have some plans for this one.

Anyway, I'll leave you to read. Do tell me what you think.

LxWxL

CHaPTeR II: _introductions to the_ SoCiaLLY ReTaRDeD BaCHeLoRS

LxWxL

"Dude, it's a _girl_." He says, sounding a little in awe (not so flattering, actually) "And she knows my _name_."

"Thank you for that clever observation." I say with a smirk. Oh, how I love being annoying. I'm such a jerk. But it's so fun. But I'm such a jerk. Eh. Oh well.

"You're welcome." He says with a grin.

Do they not speak sarcasm here in England?

A goth blondie with a bob-cut shows up next. "What do _you _want?" He demands with a sneer, breaking a piece of chocolate in his mouth. Click. His features slowly melt to shock, then quickly become cold.

I must be a sight. A girl in a flannel shirt that falls to her fingertips, loose, flappy sweats that are too long, destroyed converse and a trench coat. I have hair that falls just past the base of my neck in a very layery, scene-ish cut that I did myself looking in my bathroom mirror (it sucks because I failed), with my usual chronic case of bedhead.

I look like I try to make my hair imitate that of a mad scientist. It sticks up in random directions to the point of illogicness, and I don't gel it. In fact, I have to gel it if I want it to stay down. It used to be black, but I went gray at age 7 due to demented genetics. Some of it is pin straight, but evenly mixed in with the straight hair is this kinky hair. It looks like I randomly took sections of my hair and braided them, but I didn't. I'm much too lazy for that. My retarded genetics are to blame.

I have what I've come to call L-eyes, wide and inquisitive, unblinking and blank. They're blue with shadows under my them from him messing up my sleeping patterns by demanding I make more cake at some ungodly hour. I have my Harry Potter glasses because they're awesome.

At this point, you must be thinking: 'Oh, she's one of those stereotypical cute anime girls with giant, mesmerizing eyes and huge hair. Cliché.'

No. Try crossing a slob, a deranged creeper, L, a drug addict, and a mad scientist. That will give you a more accurate image.

I'm holding my zombie teddy under my arm, because I love her and I'm not about to let her go in this brand-new horror scene.

I look like I've stepped out of an asylum for the mentally disturbed, probably.

Mello is staring at me.

"Heh. She's cute, isn't she?" Matt says, looking to him.

I want to crawl under a rock. But I just keep staring at him like an owl. Or an L. Owling. I just made up a word, the situation is no longer awkward.

"Dibs." He whispers in Mello's ear.

"If you could step away from the door so I could walk in, it would be much appreciated." I drone contemplatively.

"Huh. And why would I do that?" He asks, leaning on the doorframe and chomping on his chocolate. He looks impassive, maybe slightly annoyed, but I see it's a façade. He's hiding something already, glaring at me a little and eating his candy.

Do all awesome detectives have a possessing obsession for sweets? If so, I can work with that.

"Aw, shut up and let the girl in, Mells." Matt says, shoving him out of the way. He grabs my hand and pulls me in, then shuts the door.

Mello starts throwing punches at Matt, who is dodging and blocking good-naturedly. I'm not really watching, but I think he finally lands a blow, and Matt doubles over slightly.

The suite is huge. The kitchen and the living room are connected and littered with toys of all natures. A TV displays the pause screen of a video game. There's chocolate wrappers everywhere and the room wreaks of smoke though.

The kitchenette is okay, I guess. Stove, oven, microwave, fridge, cabinets, drawers… there's no dishwasher. I feel my eye twitch. Of course, all the awesomeness just died inside because now I have to wash whatever I'm baking with by hand.

"So who are you supposed to be?" Mello demands, like I've just intruded his life in the most unsavory fashion.

"I'm Watari's successor. For some reason, L has decided to abandon me here with you three, because I'll be working with whoever becomes L after him for the rest of my life."

Mello doesn't seem to like the sound of that at all. "So ya worked under L, didja?" He asks, flopping back on the couch and chewing chocolate.

"Yeah. I did. I kind of tracked him down and then Watari prettymuch kidnapped me." I admit, sitting down next to him. It's easier to be outgoing when I'm annoyed, and Mello is annoying.

"I think you're full of crap." He says, chewing on his chocolate.

"Oh you do, do you? Be careful sir, I keep a revenge list." I warn, sitting on the couch too.

He laughs and sneers. "Okay then, who's on your revenge list?" He says sardonically.

I can already tell he's taken an intense dislike to me, maybe even a loathing. That's not a façade. The cockiness… that I can't tell yet. It seems a little bit natural and yet a little forced.

I pull out my sketchbook/notebook. "Let's see. L, for eating all the muffins instead of half of them. L, to blame for breaking Mim. Aunt Loon, which is not her real name so don't bother to research it, for searching for me like I want to be found. L, for shutting down my computer while I was trying to hack into the department of justice… A lot of L. To think I left him an awesome cake."

"She's a liar." Mello says to no one in particular. Matt went back to his video game.

I smirk and lean in to whisper in his ear. "I already told you why I'm here, so I guess it wouldn't help to offer you proof." I breathe. I can tell he's laughing at me on the inside. He won't be for long. "Mihael Keehl. Alias Mello, born December 13, blood type A, arrived at Wammy's House July 17. You were 9, you immediately began ranking first in the weekly exams, topping Matt who was the reigning champion when you arrived. You held first until Near arrived, approximately a year later. Your hair was blonder when you first arrived. Yes, they erased your file. They erased it well. It took me a whole week to salvage it. Believe me now, Mihael?" Oh, I'm so mean. I should be nicer and less snooty about it, but I'm not.

He's frozen, chocolate bar hanging out of his mouth. Then, suddenly he moves to grab my throat.

I react instinctively, twisting to drive my knee into his stomach and groin while seizing and pressure pointing his arm to yank his hand away. I follow through to punch him in the face, knock him onto the ground, and pin him there. Overreaction? I think not.

Add to list of requirements to be a Watari: Self-defense.

"Mells, did you just get owned by a girl?" Matt asks teasingly, pausing his game again.

Mello suggests a painful way to die to him, and I call him a sexist pig. He holds up his hands in surrender and accepts banishment to his video game.

"He's just upset because he's figured out I'm eating his chocolate now, but he should'nt've gone for my throat." I answer with a shrug. I'm straddling him, kneeling on his arms so he's stuck doing a faceplant to the floor. I feel an evil laugh coming on, but if I start laughing evilly I'll fall off him and then he'll steal the chocolate back.

"YOU'RE EATING MY CHOCOLATE?" He starts strugging with a passion and swearing. I hit him between the shoulder blades.

"Why yes Mello, I am eating your chocolate." I say, taking a big bite. "That's also a very clever observation. One would think that you're in the running to be a successor for L with such brilliance."

This isn't such a great start, actually. But it is what it is. I'm not going to do facades with them.

The third boy in the room has been watching with some fascination, though his face is blank. He's sporting an L expression. He's sitting on the floor, putting together a puzzle. Near. Looks like he doesn't get out of his pajamas either.

"If I let you up, will you attempt to attack me again?" I say, sucking on another bite.

He doesn't answer, rigid.

"Okay then, I'm going to sit here and finish your chocolate instead of giving it back."

"Dude, eating Mello's chocolate is crossing a sacred line." Matt says, eyes glued to the TV. "Just saying, he's not gonna let this go."

I shrug, polishing the sweet off. "In case you didn't notice, he kinda just tried to strangle me… So I'm not really that sorry…"

Mello growls and mutters something unintelligible.

Near chooses to speak for the first time. He looks to be around 9, even though his file says him to be 13. "A simple apology will not do. It's a matter of pride, and you've severely wounded Mello's. His personality doesn't allow him to let things go easily."

"I don't start things, I finish them." I say indignantly, letting my lower lip jut out.

…Now, one of them hates me. I think I want to go back and live with L and Watari.

"I would advise you to start thinking of peace offerings, Ms…"

"Alyas."

"Near." He says monotonously as some sort of introduction.

"I know." I say. "Nice to meet you too."

He goes back to his toys without further words.

Matt is glued to his videogame in spite of the passing events, Mello has just assaulted me, and Near is done talking and ignoring me again. Are all great detectives socially retarded? It doesn't seem like a groundless conclusion.

Mello is really thrashing. And it would be rather annoying and slightly awkward to continue sitting on him.

I let him up and spring back. "Temporary truce, because I want to toss my stuff somewhere and if you attack me, I'll just pin you down-

ImpactShockPainShockFalling-

I manage to lash out and land a blow to his chest. And then we're both on the floor, just like that, trying to get the air back in our lungs.

I get up first unsteady on my feet. I don't intend to continue this, for in spite of what a crappy host he's being, I don't enjoy having people hit me.

He gets up with death in his eyes. A second, unidentifiable emotion is shrouded behind the mass of hate. All I can make of it is that it's not something good. But perhaps that's what makes him stomp away with deliberate, heavy steps.

…He's totally planning a calculated revenge. I sigh. "Well, I look pretty screwed."

"Yep, you sure do." Matt says, pausing his game. "But if you want, I'll give you a tour of the place."

"Yes please."

"Well, this is the living room, with toys all over the floor courtesy of Near. Don't let his smartness fool you, he's really irresponsible and stuff." The floor is covered by fuzzy red carpet. The walls are pale gold. The couches are beige. Matt's area is the left wall, because the TV is there. He has a beanbag with controllers and systems and game cases surrounding it. There's a couch at the back wall, that spans most of the wall in the living room area. Then the couch takes a 90 degree turn and runs parallel to the other two walls. There's about 4 feet of carpet to the right of the couch before the floor becomes the tile that was in the main hall.

"This is the kitchen." He says, walking onto the tile. There's a square table, a chair for each side. Dark wood, gold accents. The counters are black granite, the cabinets match the table. Deep sink. I walk over and start opening cabinets. The plates and silverware are covered in dust, there's no dish soap or brillo, and there's one measly sponge buried in the corner.

I pick it up to discover it's afflicted with rigor mortis.

The only things in the cabinets are junk food and chocolate. I open the fridge next. Sodas. There's chocolate and potato chips in the freezer.

Potato chips… in the freezer? Must. Not. Facepalm.

The curse of the socially retarded bachelor strikes back. Definitely. I eyetwitch.

L was worse than this, I can totally handle three fools that are probably much smarter than me. So far, I've made one of them my enemy and probably convinced the other two my intelligence is questionable.

Ah well, who said I would be handling them?

I sigh. "The lack of supplies in this kitchen is rather appalling. How am I supposed to make cake when you three don't even keep eggs in the fridge?" Oh boy. At least at L's I didn't have to scavenge for cooking supplies.

"We don't have to. They make 3 meals a day, all you have to do is show up to the mess hall." He says, grinning.

"I shall not be denied cake!" I proclaim.

"Uh, okay…" Matt says tentatively.

I give him a wide eyed, unblinking stare, biting the side of my pointer finger. My lips slowly curve into a childish smile, kinda like L's. Yes, I am a freak. Shut up and deal with me.

L is a bad influence. I picked up more tendencies from him than I first assumed. Well actually, they probably were always there. L just developed them.

Matt no longer has any idea what to make of me. I'll call that achievement unlocked, I just befuddled the guy who's third in line for the name L.

We ascend the staircase in the back right corner of the room. Down a hall against the back wall, until it takes a 90 degree turn to split the floor in half. Wooden floor. There are 5 doors in the dividing hallway.

"That's Mello's room." Matt says, pointing to the closest one to my right, as I look down the hall. "Mine's across from it, and Near's is the back left, so you get back right." I immediately go and open the door.

I stand in the doorway and gawk. Red walls, dark wood floor, gold accents. "Oooh." There's a lovely queen-sized poster bed with a fluffy red comforter and an abundance of pillows against the right wall. Two chairs and a loveseat around a coffee table, loveseat facing a TV on the left wall. There's a desk in the right front corner, with an empty bookshelf against the right wall right by the desk. The room is spacious and lovely.

"That's the closet." Matt says, indicating a door to the left on the back wall, "And that's your bathroom." He says, pointing to a door somewhat in the middle of the back wall.

"I feel like a sir in a palace. This be my fool chambers and I sit up here and pretend I rule something like a boss." Yes, I like this plan of mine.

"You have to do your own laundry. That's the door at the end of the hall."

Killjoy.

"Do you want help moving any furniture?"

"You could help me push the bed to the desk." I say, laying Mim on it.

"Sure." He says, getting on one side of it and pushing it. I go to help him, but we're both standing on a rug that goes flying out from under our feet like it's attempting to assassinate us. Before I know what's going on, I'm on my stomach on the floor and Matt is on top of me.

"Conclusion: This rug is trying to kill us. Get off me." I mutter.

Matt laughs, in spite of (or perhaps because of) hitting his head rather hard on the bedframe.

"So, why are we pushing the bed to the desk?" He asks, as the bed hits the bookshelf.

"So I have some hope of getting to it before passing out after 48 straight hours in front of a screen. And I can take my computers in bed without unplugging them. All arrangements shall revolve around the computer setup."

"So you're one of those people who lives in front of a screen." He says.

"When I'm not out shooting stuff or cooking or running around or playing with my desk toys or breaking something I'm not supposed to be touching." I say, starting to jump on the bed. "Though I do have a serious addiction to memebase."

I pick up Mim and jerk her up and down. My hair is getting everywhere. Matt watches with a slightly amused expression.

The bed is really bouncy. I do a flip and keep jumping. He whoops, and I cheer, and then we both start hysterically laughing, because, oh, I don't know, jumping on beds is only the funnest thing ever. They're like indoor trampolines.

All the sudden, Mello busts in. "What the-

The words stop. I've dumbstrucked another one! That makes 2 for Alyas and 0 for the socially retarded bachelors! Win!

"Hi Mello~!" I singsong, mid-flip.

"What the heck?" He snarls, looking like he wants to murder me on the spot.

"Apparently someone has outgrown having fun." I remark.

"What's wrong with you?" He demands.

"Oh, an assortment of things." I say, landing lightly on the ground.

He sneers at me. "I conclude one of them is severe mental retardation."

That prompts me to start jumping on the bed again. "You know, I have this terrible feeling that you and I aren't going to get along very well."

"I'd put her IQ somewhere around 65." Mello says to Matt.

"But she's cute." Implied 'so it doesn't really matter.'

I facepalm. Now one of them is drawing incorrect conclusions and the other is using faulty reasoning. How does cuteness make up for intelligence? And besides, I look maniac… and right now I'm acting like one too.

Mello's glare shifts to Matt. "She's as cute as scum of the earth."

"Was that meant to offend me? You may have to come up with better insults, sir." I say drone-ishly.

"I don't need to insult you, you're so pathetic that no one has to point it out." He retorts scathingly.

"Like you just did?" I ask inquisitively. I don't usually try to get in fights, but this is rather entertaining…

He looks like he's currently willing to kill me with his bare hands. No exaggeration.

"Just putting it out there, Mells." I say, owling. I flip again.

"You will not call me Mells unless you want to die." He snarls.

Immediately, the urge to call him Mells again sets in. But then Near appears in the doorway. "What is the meaning of this racket?" He asks, sounding a little bored. What is this foolery interrupting his playtime?

"I'm surrounded by IDIOTS!" Mello snarls, storming out.

"Mello's fun allergies react poorly to anyone jumping on a bed." I explain.

"I DO NOT HAVE FUN ALLERGIES!" Mello shouts from the hall. "Shut up, stupid girl!"

"So do." I mutter.

I hear his heavy, swift footsteps on the stairs.

"I don't believe there is such a thing." Near comments, fingers tangled in his hair.

A door slams. Mello has gone out.

"But his reaction to such a suggestion is quite amusing, is it not?" I ask, giving him my wide-eyed, speculative stare. I don't blink a lot, too many hours staring at an illuminated screen.

"Slightly." He says monotonously, turning and leaving.

Killjoy? Perhaps a little. Near is like an albino L, only less fun. But I'll figure him out.

"Well, that was fun. When's dinner?" I ask Matt, turning to him.

"Six. Dining hall is-

"I know." If dinner is at six, then I have about 3 hours to screw around and get settled in.

"So, do you want help unpacking or anything?" Matt asks. He's the only one who's been nice to me so far. But if these people are like L, their tastebuds are the doors to their heart.

Well, that may only be L.

Matt seems like a pretty open, friendly person. I think we'll get along easily, he's the only one without walls around himself to keep others out. He already accepts me. There's nothing to keep me out of Mattland, it's only a matter of traveling to his heart. Time, bonding, insert cheesy sentimental blather.

Mello will be a little more complicated to get through to though, he's a little rough around the edges. I'd put it down as a troubled past.

He feels vulnerable. I see it in his demeanor, he's a very aggressive, defensive person because he feels insecure. Being second to Near, I wouldn't be surprised if he has low self-esteem or an inferiority complex or both. I have to get to know him, make him trust me, before he'll make any connections with me.

There will be no friendship and then there will be. Suddenly. Mello seems like a bit of an extreme person. Kind of controlled by his emotions.

And at the present moment, he totally hates me. I may never be on good terms with him.

…Perhaps I should be slightly more worried than I am.

Near, on the other hand, will have to open before we can get to know each other. With Near, I'm going to have to get through the wall and then slowly get to know him. He'll have to accept me before he'll even consider hanging around with a weirdo such as myself.

But connecting with Near shouldn't be all that difficult. I already have a place to start. Toys. If I approach him slowly and unintrusively, and present myself as pleasant company (not an idiot, doesn't need to blather to be around someone, likes toys and will make playtime more fun instead of getting in the way,) it will be easy.

… Of course, when I say something will be easy, I'm usually wrong.

Anyway, it will be a little slow. He's a suspicious person. But I have experience with his type (coughcoughLcough).

I may not be capable of L-worthy deduction, but I can usually read people like books. When I'm not totally wrong.

L is better at it than I am (out of principle, assume L is better than me at everything in which I compare us in, unless I say otherwise) but he's sociologically impaired. He can read people, but he doesn't know how to respond to them. That's one of the few things I beat him at.

I shall be friends with ALL the Ls! (except for maybe Mello.)

Matt waves a hand in front of my face.

What?

Oh. Perhaps I should consider answering someone's question when they speak to me.

"Als?" Look! It's a nickname! I feel special!

"Sure." I say, dropping a bag on him. "These are my clothes. You can go dump them on the closet floor or something.

"Thanks." He says sarcastically.

"You're quite welcome."

By the time he emerges from the closet, I have electronics strewn all over the bed, floor and desk.

"I actually dumped them in a drawer- woah." He says, surveying the mess.

"Surely you didn't think that this suitcase was more clothing, did you?" I inquire.

"What is this stuff? Do you really need like 10 computers?" He asks, lighting another cigarette.

"You see, if I kept my personal stuff and all of my work stuff together, I would probably need about three. But seeing that I actually have multiple identities as completely different people in various circles and I don't want anyone to be able to connect them or trace them back to my actual identity and blah blah blah kidnap me, slaughter me, leave my body in a roadside ditch, I have different computers. And sometimes an identity makes me have to use several computers at once."

"Can't you use firewalls and that kind of internetty protection type things?"

"Oh, I do. But you see, I'm paranoid. No matter how amazing your security is, there's always a possibility of someone more talented than you getting through it."

"Has that ever happened?"

"Watari sort of did. Nothing all that bad happened because I caught it early, but now I'm completely paranoid that it will happen again. So I modified all of my security programs and so far I no one else has gotten through them. Really, all the computers are probably an unnecessary precaution." I say, considering this for the first time. Do I really need all 9 of my laptops and my 3 computers?

…yes.

"I'm still paranoid about it though. I have things on these computers that I don't want anyone seeing, obviously."

"Like?" He asks, dragging the word out.

I look at him. "Certainly you don't think I'm going to go into detail over information that I just stated I intended to keep a secret, right Matt? Right? Right?"

He pouts. "Now I'm curious." Oh no, it's a seductive, flirty tone. Time to find a rock to crawl under again.

"I do not take kindly to that, sir." I retort.

"We'll just have to see what we can do about that, won't we?"

… =-= … Apparently a translation is necessary.

"STAY AWAY FRUM MAH COMPUTARZ, FEWL!" I shout at the top of my lungs, hugging one of my laptops.

I glare at him for the entire awkward silence, clinging to the laptop overprotectively.

I think I've made my point. Thou shalt not violate the electronics of your Watari-to-be if one wishes to live to become L.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Got it. No computers."

"Oh, I don't mind if you pet them, I just don't want you to read my files. Or see my set up. Or… really, just don't touch the power button on anything and you're golden." I explain, putting the laptop on the desk. "Hand me Millicent."

"Millicent?"

That makes three dumbstruckeds for me.

"I've named all the computers, if you haven't noticed." I say, reaching over and holding up Millicent. She's a big, black laptop with her name scrawled on her in my silver sharpie.

"Why did you name your computers?"

"It makes them easier for me to tell them apart. Harriet, Emilio and Gaara are all the same model, and Derpette, Julian, Legolas and Christopher all start to look the same when I haven't slept in 24 hours. Millicent and Sven are pretty distinctive, but it wouldn't be very fair if I named all the other laptops and not them."

"Uh, I guess." Matt says.

"Pass me Ephraim." I say.

"You don't have a laptop named Ephraim."

"Ephraim is a surge protector." I say, rolling my eyes. Duh. If it's not a laptop, it's obviously something else.

He passes me Werner instead. "This is Werner, not Ephraim, Matt." Fool please. The name is clearly written on the side.

"They're both power surges." He objects.

"Ephraim has 16 outlets with UPS protection. Werner handles all the other electronics that can die on the floor when there's a power outage."

He gets it right this time and gives Ephraim. "What's UPS protection?"

"Uninterruptable power supply. You see if there's a blackout, brownout, or power surge, my electronics shall be perfectly protected." I say, hugging Ephraim. "He's like their body guard. Now pass me Laura please, she looks just like Ephraim."

I plug in my two beautiful surge protectors. I get a shiver of pleasure. Oh, I love my electronics. They make me feel so floaty inside.

"Can you do me a favor and start turning on my phones? Some might be out of power."

All my phones are smartphones. I don't like dumbphones. You can't make them record every call you make of change your voice for you. I named them after vocaloids, because vocaloids are amazing.

"I thought I was forbidden to touch power buttons?" he asks teasingly.

"You won't get past the lock screens."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure, but you don't." I don't even use words anymore. I use random sequences of numbers and letters. I'd like to see him guess h83nsne43v8x3sslkenw04 on his first try. If he can… well heck, if he's lucky enough to guess that, he deserves to discover that I don't keep any games on all but one of my phones.

"Okay, so your password for this one isn't 0000." He says. "It's not 1234 either."

I eyetwitch. Is this guy really an L-to-be?

…I'm starting to think I don't want this person anywhere near my electronics.

"This one is dead." Matt says.

"Oh, Kaito?" I ask, taking the phone by my creepy doll charm. Kaito is my personal phone and more of a plaything than anything else. He's an I-touch and I keep all of my music on him. "Can you plug Werner into the wall and get him charging?"

"How do you remember all of these names? The phones don't even have any names written on them."

"The stickers."

"Yeah, anime characters."

"Actually, they're vocaloids and there's quite a difference. But basically, I named them after the people on the stickers."

"Why do you need so many phones?" He asks.

Matt is doing more than helping me unpack. He's milking me for information.

"Once again, I have a lot of contacts that don't necessarily need to know about each other. So I have different phones for each party, so they can contact me, and in turn I have a non-disposable number for most of them. The dittos are the only phones I replace a lot." I say, pointing to a cheaper smartphone with a blue sticker of the pokemon ditto. "It's possible that someone would trace the phone itself, even if I change the number because the telephone companies make note of the serial numbers, so I have to get entirely new phones when I'm dealing with someone I don't want to contact me once I'm done with them."

He holds up a gallon Ziploc bag with about 30 memory sticks in it.

"10 gigabites a piece. I use them to move information from computer to computer when I don't want something on the internetz because I have my critical case of paranoid." I have to destroy them pretty often, a lot of my acquaintances like to try to give me viruses and it's easier to just throw the thing out than go through the trouble of making it safe.

He unpacks more electronic crap. My tablet, keyboards, mouses, blank CDs, memory cards of all types, a variety of cables, so on and so forth. As we work, we talk.

"You know that Mells is totally pissed off at you."

"No, one would think that he's falling at my feet and begging for forgiveness from the way he's acting." I say, heavy on the sarcasm.

"Seriously Alyas, you don't want to be on Mello's bad side."

I can't help but smirk. Look, it's an opportunity to do something very, very stupid! I'm already on the wrong track, because apparently Mello isn't one to forgive. But I like chaos and I like pressure and I like challenges. Be hated by Mello? Challenge accepted. "I think it may be a little late to apologize."

"Dude, he's my best friend, so…"

He doesn't want to have two friends that loathe each other too much to be in the same room. Well, I don't hate Mello. "I'm not gonna go out of my way to get in trouble." I say, palms up unaggressively. Sure, I'll be nice, but I'm not going to refrain from toying with someone if they start a fight.

I don't stay mad for long though. "I can't hold grudges anyway. I have to keep a revenge list to stay mad about stuff that I was mad enough to want to stay mad about, and that usually fails." I'm supposed to be mad at L for some stuff, but it's not really working. In fact, I don't care anymore.

…He gets away with everything, that stupid L.

"Well Mells can't let things go."

"Then this should be interesting." He's not on my enemy list. I have a very short enemy list.

But I'm on a lot of people's enemy lists, even if they're not all using the same name. I'd imagine I'm even on a few 'kill the instant you find out this meddling fool's identity' lists.

"Just be careful, Als. He's more dangerous than he seems."

No, really? He just tried to strangle me within the moment I walked in, does not deal with anger rationally, and is apparently a super genius. I'd put him down as someone to be paranoid about.

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll start carrying around a gun." I say sarcastically.

He just shakes his head, giving up.

The thing is, I'm dead serious. I own a gun and I know how to use it. If Mello tried to kill me, I would shoot him if I had to. Without a second thought.

"Don't worry about me, Matt." I say. "I don't mind being in over my head."

"Dude, something is wrong with you."

"We went over this with Mello." I say. But according to Mello, jumping on beds is not fun. Therefore his opinions are no longer to be taken seriously. "Where did he go, anyway?"

"Probably to the shooting range. That's where he goes when he's upset."

"You have a shooting range here?" OMG. Awesomeness level has just skyrocketed. Yes! Place to play with weapons!

I'ma start vomiting rainbows or something. "Yeah. You shoot?"

"Here and there." I'm still doing the snoopy happy dance inside my head.

"I do too. We should go together sometime." He suggests. "Though not when Mells is around. He might try to put a couple holes in us." He says with a laugh.

"That might be a problem."

"Maybe, just maybe, you know, if he _hit _something."

"I don't like hospitals." I say. "They ask for too much information. We'd have to bleed it out on the floor until someone who knew first aid came along."

"They have a doctor here." Matt says. "So I don't think you have to worry about it."

"Oh. That's perfect." I should have known L and Wammy thought that far ahead. And I just came to like this place a little more. I don't have to worry about how refusing to go to the doctor will give me a terminal infection. "Are we allowed to go into town?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Well, you need someone to go with you…"

"Any volunteers?" I drone.

"Sure." He says with a smile. "I'll take you out for lunch sometime."

So I won't have to sneak out, I suppose that's good. I'll just have to ditch Matt if I want to get something done. "For lunch as in we eat lunch together, or for lunch like you attempt cannibalism and I run away flailing and screaming?"

"Uh, the first one."

"Then that's a most kind gesture, sir."

"Hey, if you need anything…" He says, implying he's willing to help me out.

"If you're not preoccupied with videogames." I finish.

He laughs. "Looks like Mello was wrong about your IQ."

"Maybe. I've never been tested."

"Well that will change." He says. "Even though you're not in the running to become L, I think you still have to take the test."

"Test?" Is this the one Roger mentioned?

"Every week they give you a bunch of mystery scenarios that are considered L-worthy cases on Friday. You get the weekend to solve them as far as you can, and you have to turn in your results by the end of the weekend. The results are posted Tuesday, Near is always in first, and Mello is a pinless grenade."

You get too close, you'll get blown up very quickly.

"Oh." Mello doesn't like losing. That fits with the insecurity. "Well, I'm probably going to suck at that, if it will make him feel any better." But I doubt it will.

"He only wants to beat Near. It used to be close, Mello placed first once a month, once every 2 months. But recently, Near pulled way ahead, he's been holding spot number one for 7 months running."

"So Near is always ahead of him."

"There's a monthly test too, for academics and memorization and trivia and stuff like that, but the weekly one is more important." He says. "Mello scores highest in the monthly half the time, but it's Near the other half. It beats me how, he never does anything but play with his toys."

"Do you study?"

"Nah. It's boring. Mello does."

Of course he would. The insecurity… anything to beat Near.

"Nothing pisses him off more than that he can beat the sheep at everything but what he really wants to. Being L." Matt says. "He's one of those people who has to win at everything."

"Mello spends a lot of time being pissed off, does he not?"

"Yeah. It's a little scary what it's doing to him. He used to go out more, play with the other kids and stuff. He used to be less…"

"Likely to try to strangle you."

"Yeah. What did you tell him, anyway?"

"Things he thought no one knew."

"That would do it. Talking to Mello is like playing with a bear trap these days." Matt says.

"Huh. And what do you think of all this?"

"It kinda sucks. He used to be a fun guy. He was always a little rough around the edges, but now-

"Playing with a bear trap."

"Exactly. He won't even play video games anymore! I haven't had anyone to play video games with in months!"

"I'll play with you, if you can show me how to move the guy on the screen." I don't think I've really ever picked up a video game in my life. Other than pokemon. I love pokemon, I used to have all the cards but then they made up another new region and it got kinda stupid. But I still love it.

"You don't know how to move an avatar."

"Does it have to do with those button things on the controller?" What's an avatar?

He stares at me. "Hello, my name is Matt. I'll be your doctor today. It seems that you're suffering from a severe deficiency of electronic amusement-

"So not true. I have memebase."

"Have you ever picked up an X-box controller?"

"No…"

"A Wii remote."

"No…"

"A Nintendo DS."

"Yes. I beat a pokemon game, so ha!"

"_A_ pokemon game?"

"Yeah. I even beat the pokemon league." It took me 5 tries and over 20 revives, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Have you played anything _but_ one pokemon game?"

"I have games on Kaito…"

"I prescribe several hours of intensive therapy every day for the rest of your life."

"Therapy?"

"Super Mario Brothers, sister."

"Is that the one with the blue hedgehog? I think I saw a commercial for that once… no, that was a different one…" I trail off, trying to remember.

"Sonic."

"Yeah. That was it." I say. "Does Near ever do anything at all with you guys? Then you wouldn't have to play with someone as incompetent as me."

"No. I asked him once and he just said he wasn't interested."

Not interested. That's code for 'Leave me alone, I'm antisocial'. L was 'not interested' in a lot of things.

"So you play video games all day, Near ignores everyone, and Mello shoots stuff because of his short temper."

This is not a very promising analysis.

"Pretty much."

They are officially all in the category of 'socially retarded bachelors'. Now it's officially official.

"Well, there's usually some sort of sports going on when it's not pouring rain… there are playrooms here for the younger kids, sometimes Near goes down there when everyone is outside. There's a couple of lounges around. You can go to classes, but there's kind of a loose approach to education here. It's all about the test, you know?"

"Not really." I say.

I shrug. "Looks like you're stuck with me. I'm only good at stuff like parkour and hacking and… not sewing."

"You're better than a bob-cut bear trap that breaks my controllers."

We both laugh a little.

I'm done setting up my three computers, Darth Sidious, Frodo and Naruto, and their monitors, Sam, Golem, Darth Vader, Darth Maul, Sakura and Sasuke. It takes about an hour to set everything up. Matt is a big help. He passes things and moves things and makes me laugh.

Even though he might be a genius, I don't think he completely gets the significance of all the programs and files I have. Some, I created. Others, I stole. But the best and the worst of everything was entrusted to me.

I don't know if L and Watari know about it. They might. They kidnapped me because they caught me hacking and recognized some of the custom software when I sent them a shoutout and a ton of confidential information about their case. So they must have had contact with my teacher at some point. Why, I don't know.

I've practically dug my own grave and the grave of a bunch of other people, just by having this stuff I fear I've made it easier to get to. There are people smarter than me. Much smarter than me. I was left with a bunch of stuff I don't think I have adequate smarts to protect.

I have an all-data delete button for all of my electronics that will wipe every memory system on my computers. Permenantly.

One thing I will never admit to anyone is that I keep hard copies of all my important programs and files.

In a safe of missile proof metal.

I have three locks on it, one that takes a key I keep around my neck (I have the only one) and a combination lock.

The first two are ruses. The real lock is secret. I made the design myself, it cost me and my… previous caretaker several enormous favors to have it built.

They're not going to be able to cut into it without impossibly heavy duty machinery. It can withstand ridiculous amounts of pressure and can withstand much more heat than its contents can. The walls are 6 inches thick, the inner area is 8 inches by 8 inches by 8 inches. It weighs around 500 pounds and I'm the only one who knows where it currently is.

One does not simply open my safe. How's that for paranoid?

I'm not nearly paranoid enough though, I think.

"Well, now that my electronic emporium is functioning, we can unpack the fun stuff." I say.

"What could possibly be more fun than 5 hours of plugging computers in?" He asks sarcastically, even though he totally had fun doing it.

"It only took an hour, Matt. And computers are beautiful things."

"Video games are better."

"Are you having videogame withdrawals?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Go ogle at a screen, Matt." I say, putting my hand on his shoulder and staring at him like I'm informing him of his destiny. "I shall unpack my desk toys myself."

"Oh heck no. I didn't just suffer through 5 hours of your technology for nothing." He says with a grin. "I want to play with your desk toys. Are any of them videogames?"

"Uh… not really." I say, opening my second tote. "I don't play videogames. I mostly just play games on Kaito."

He takes Kaito. "Well then, can I play with that?"

"Suit yourself." The desk is large, but it wasn't quite large enough for all my stuff, so I had Matt help me pull over the vanity table and the coffee table, so I can spread out. We had to pull the bed back a little to make room for all my tables. The bookshelf and my night table are against the wall. Made a little enclosure for me to spend half of my life here in.

"Who's in your contacts?" He asks.

"No one of interest to you." I say evenly.

We moved the evil red rug over into the enclosure, making it all cozy and stuff. The night table next to the bed inside the enclosure. I also kidnapped the footstool, because I actually prefer kneeling to sitting normally. Sometimes I kneel or sit in a weird way in a chair though. It depends on my mood.

"S'it cool if I put mine in?" he asks, holding up his phone.

"I have a password on the thing." I say. What if someone steals my phone because they discover me and threaten my personal contacts? What if I lose it and someone picks it up and calls the numbers? I take out my Galileo thermometer and pull it out of its box and Styrofoam.

"Isn't it suspicious to have a password on your contacts list?" He asks. "Most people wouldn't have a password on their contacts list."

Next, I get out my collection of splat-balls. They're nubby and they splat when you throw them and they stick to the ceiling for a few seconds and I love them. I have an orange one, a pink one, and a blue one. I named them oafus, pofus and bofus. Don't ask me why, I don't know.

"Paranoid tech-savvy teen doesn't want people looking at her acquaintances." There are plenty of those around these days, lucky for me.

I start putting my plasma balls and lavalamps around the room. I prefer these to regular lighting, they aren't too bright and they're colorful. I like the dark. I put my cute little keyboard duster on the desk.

"This phone can tell a lot about your personality." Matt tells me. "You're a teenage girl, you're tech-savvy, you're secretive."

"That isn't enough to make an average person suspicious. And if they're taking measures to get into my phone beyond guessing the passwords a few times, they're suspicious already."

Sand timers, various 3D puzzles, Newton's cradle and other sciencey motion toys.

"You sure you're not an L successor?" He grins. Yeah, that was a test. Not quite that stupid, Matt. Not quite.

"I could probably be a regular detective, but L? No way."

I pull out my buckyballs. I have a gallon Ziplock of the circle ones and a gallon Ziploc of the cube ones.

"Anyway, can I put my number in? What's the password to this thing?" He asks.

We live in the same place… but it can never hurt to be prepared, in case I have to get in touch with him. "I'm not telling you my passwords, Matt." I say, holding my hand out for the phone. He passes it to me, and I type the random 23 number sequence that unlocks the contacts. "What's your number?"

I finish unpacking various little creepy dolls and other toys.

He tells me and I key it in. "What's yours?" He asks.

I give him Kaito's number and reach to take the final thing out of the bag.

"So, now that I have your phone number, you wanna date?" He asks.

I stare at him. Did he just ask me _out_?

He holds his hands up in surrender, unabashed. "It was worth asking. Your weirdness is kind of attractive."

"Let's start with just friends, Matt."

Maybe stay that way for a long, long time. I don't think I'm ready to be romantically inclined, I haven't analyzed it enough to get involved with someone that way myself.

Heck, I haven't gotten to analyze it at all. All I've ever done is live with socially retarded bachelors.

"Is there somewhere I can get… baking stuff?" I ask.

"The kitchen." He suggests. "If you ask them they'll give you pretty much anything."

"Would they give me poisons?" I ask excitedly.

"Uh, no."

=3= but I used to be able to has poisons, I just left them when Watari kidnapped me. No fair.

"World 8 is calling." Matt says. "This was fun."

"Thanks for helping." I say. What's world 8?

"No problem." He says. "You're an interesting person, Als."

"As are you, Matt." He leaves.

I take out Tim. His boxy, metal body is the same as always.

I place the toy robot in one of the desk drawers.

Tim is probably one of the most important things I own.

No, he is most definitely one of the most important things I own.

Meh. I don't feel like unpacking anymore. I think I'll go find a sponge that doesn't have rigor mortis.

LxWxL

A/N: Wow. Alyas is weird. Rix can only write her character properly when I'm hyperactive. I'm sorry if she was a little more boring this time, contrary to popular belief, Rix doesn't constantly bounce off walls.

Also, I'm sorry that the argument with Mello was kinda crappy, it didn't come out quite as well as I hoped.

It might take a while for us to get to the romance part, because Matt just flirts with pretty much every girl he sees, but please be patient. Contrary to popular belief, these things don't happen overnight.

For now, Rix thinks it's quite a lot of fun to have Mello completely hate Alyas. (Yes, that is what's really going on, Mello doesn't secretly like her already. That would be boring.)

And her soon-to-come interactions with Near… should be rather interesting. Near wasn't really that involved this time, he's not the type to make introductions. He'll play a bigger part in the next chapter.

Oh, how I love to screw with my characters.

Fankschu for reading! RnR for your Rix pwease!

Until next time,

~Your RiXCHaN

P.S. I think I may want to get a betareader/advisor for this series. If anyone is interested, please PM Rix.


	3. SiR KiLLJoY oF BLeaCHaToPia

A/N: First, in order for this chapter to make total sense, you should know what Buckyballs are. Since I would be too lazy to google them if someone told me to look them up in an author's note, I'll tell you now.

They are very strong magnets, sold in ridiculously overpriced sets. They come in spheres and cubes, and have a diameter of about 5mm. They're too much fun to play with for one's health and safety.

Perhaps now you have an idea of where Rix is going with this here chapter.

LxWxL

CHaPTeR III: _my encounters with_ SiR KiLLJoY oF BLeaCHaToPia

LxWxL

I think I like 'shopping' here.

It was never my intention to return to the room like I waltzed into a grocery store, I simply wanted a sponge without rigor mortis.

Which was really rather pointless, because there will be nothing to wash unless I start making food.

I think I just don't like sponges with rigor mortis. They make me feel …disturbed.

I shift the plastic bags in my right hand onto my arm and fumble for the room key in hopes to get it before the stupid bags cut off my circulation and they have to amputate. I manage to get it into the lock and turn the doorknob. Why do these contraptions have to be so complicated? We're not all Ls, you know.

"I'm hooooooooooome!" I shout obnoxiously, slamming the door open. Thou shalt not prevail, you derpish door! Victory is mine! I can has put a key in the lock single-handedly _carrying 10 bags of groceries._

One does not simply deny my skill.

"I'm playing videogames and smoking!" Matt calls. "Near is doing something irrelevant!"

I smirk. Once someone announces what they're doing, everyone who's not a killjoy does too.

I open the fridge and start putting things away.

You see, I can't just shove things in the fridge. I have to categorize them. All of the dairy things have to go in the little drawer and the fruits have to be in lines so I can count them without having to look too hard. And it really bothers me when the flour is on the bottom shelf. Unless of course, it's whole wheat flour, then I really don't care.

…At least I don't alphabetize. Maybe I should. Or maybe I should really stop caring. I make the split-second decision to just throw everything in the fridge in the bags and do something else more entertaining.

"Is Mello back yet?"

"Nope. He probably won't be for a while." Matt responds.

Quick to anger, slow to cool.

Mello… you and I will most certainly not get along. But I think this will be more fun for me than it will be for you.

I climb up on the table and lie across it, with my arms and legs dangling off. So… I could finish unpacking… I could go on the internetz… I could stand outside in the pouring rain… I could annoy Matt… I could eat food… I could follow Roger around and comment on what he does for the sake of seeing his reactions… no, I'm trying to be nice to Roger. But I don't think being nice to Roger is really getting me any points. Hopeless case. I should go annoy Roger. Roger, Roger, Foolger, Foolder. Heh. That's funny. Annoying Foolder with some stupid questions might be fun…

…Nah, I don't feel like going out. I could take a shower… I could jump on the bed…

Meh.

Right now none of these options seem particularly fun.

Jumping on the bed is not fun?

All the things are boring? How did I get a chronic case of the boreds so fast? Is this some sort of negative side effect to not organizing the groceries?

I should organize the groceries and see if it goes away. I spring off the table and open the fridge to see the bags.

…Do I really feel like organizing these? …nope.

Um… I could…

Meh. I don't feel like thinking of what to do. But I don't want to do nothing either.

I frown. I miss L. He always had something interesting to do, be it explaining a case or fighting with me over cake or stacking sugar cubes or telling me to get him something that's impossible to find, or just watching him be L and mindhex everyone who heard his scrambled voice through speakers.

He used to tell me stories about cases he'd completed, because I'd practically (literally) beg him to (and bribe him with sweets. That's what I had to do basically whenever I wanted him to do something for me.).

I actually downloaded his entire database behind his back, but I think he knew, or at least suspected. He probably knew, because I have a habit of stealing information wherever I go and he knew about that.

But he didn't stop me. I think he'd want whoever is L after him to have his notes on his previous cases, if he unexpectedly had to delete them all. And I protect information obsessively. I have one copy of the files and a hammer to smash the disks at a moment's notice. I didn't get to put them in my safe yet.

I read some of the case files, they were absolutely fascinating. The type of mysteries that are suggestive and intriguing, the type that you're dying to know the answer to, but you can make neither heads nor tails of. They would be amazing novels, even told in the plain language of L's notes and official records, they suck you in.

Which is why I loved it when L would tell them to me. Then they were stories, not just records.

One would think he's hard to listen to, the way he speaks without inflection. But L is actually a great storyteller. His voice is lulling, borderline hypnotizing. You watch the whole mystery unfold through his third eye.

And now L isn't here. And I'm bored. I don't care for cases without his voice to tell them right now.

…

…

…sigh…

It's time to wander around until something catches my interest. I climb over the back of the couch and fall on the cushions, then I crawl back into the kitchen. Matt's eyes stay transfixed on the screen.

I squat under the table, studying the wood grain for a few minutes, and then decide to go upstairs.

I decide to make my way to my room with my eyes shut. I put my hand on the wall. Now how far in did the hallway turn?

Here. I pass Matt's door, and then-

"Ms. Alyas, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get to my room."

"Then why have you shut your eyes?"

"I'm bored."

"Open them, please. I would be most unpleased if you tripped over my arrangement and ruined it."

"Fiiiiiiine." I peek.

Woah. O. M. G. Case of the boreds officially cured.

Near has an incredibly complex construction of wooden train track all over the floor. It spans from his room out into the hall. The tangle of bridges and blocks must be 3 feet tall in some places and he has 23 trains on it right here. Wow. Like wow. I can't convey the awesomeness of this setup. And there's more I can't see in his room. I want to start drooling.

"I thought I was the only one who remembered Thomas the Tank Engine!" I whisper, staring in shock. "But you have Thomas and Annie and Clarabel and Percy and Toby and James and Gordon!" I breathe. "Some faith in humanity has been restored!"

"Impressive, Ms. Alyas." He says, tangling his fingers in his hair.

I NEED to play with that thing. "Do you mind if I…" I say, reaching out.

"Yes. Please refrain from touching my toys."

What? He has this entire amazing thing _in the hallway_ and he's telling me I can't even _touch_ it? What's there for, tormenting me? I eyetwitch. "W- wh- why not?" I ask, my hand twitching a little.

"Because they're mine, Ms. Alyas," He says calmly, pushing a train along the track with a finger, just to make me jealous. The other one stays tangled in his hair. "And I don't want one such as yourself touching them."

"What kind of reason is that?" I demand. I have NEVER, in my life, seen someone this old be so selfish with playthings. What an immature little jerk!

"A legitimate one." JerkJerkJerkJerk. Gah! Near, why u no let me play with you!

I pout. "Fine then. I'll go do something else." I whine.

"Yes, please do."

Jerk. I leave the door ajar partly so he can see that I don't need him to have fun and partly because I'm too lazy to shut it.

I wander into my room. Now I want to play with toys. =3=… Near is mean. Mello is mean. The only nice one here is Matt, and all he ever does is play videogames.

I WANTED TO PLAY WITH TRAINS! TT-TT !

He's such a jerk…

"Well we don't need him, do we Mim?" I mutter, dragging my bear off my bed and grabbing my buckyballs. I take the silver square ones and start building towers. Before I know it, I've constructed a city that contains the Eiffel Tower, Empire State building, and the Parthenon. I ran out of cubes, so I started using spherey ones, and then I ran out of them, so I started using my colorful supply of both types, even though skyscrapers are mostly silver. I even forgot about Near.

I take a loop of them and put them on my head, and then make one for Mim. We are now rulers of Buckytopia.

Then I feel eyes on my back. I slowly pivot, still squatting.

Near is staring at me from the hall.

I tilt my head, owling. How long has he been watching, and why would he do so, Hmm? He has his trains that he refuses to share.

"The Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building are not in the same city." Cynical little sheep-jerk.

"Neither is the Parthenon." I reply.

He gets up and steps into my room, sock-footed, then squats down by the city to get a closer look, toying with his hair.

"Have you considered all the things you could do with these?" He drones.

"Once I made a giant magnetic snake out of them. It was like 5 feet long and I could barely drag it around."

He reaches out for them. "Hey! No touching!"

"You mean to tell me I can't?" He asks monotonously. He seems slightly taken by surprise though.

"Please refrain from touching my toys." I retort. "I don't want one such as yourself touching them because they're mine."

"That's very childish of you, Ms. Alyas."

"An eye for an eye." I reply.

He seems to consider this. Well if I had refused him first, I think he would have done the same thing I did. Fair is fair. =3= if I can't play with the trains, he can't play with my magnets.

Near seems to consider this. "I don't enjoy playing with other people, Ms. Alyas."

I raise an eyebrow. "Have you ever even tried playing with someone else?"

"No." Of course not. Socially retarded bachelor shuns all human company.

"Then how do you know you won't like it?"

"I don't enjoy trying new things, Ms. Alyas."

"Well, there's your problem." I say, continuing to build. "If you want to play with my toys, you're gonna have to try me."

He seems to ponder this.

He's painfully shy, seeing how far this is out of his comfort zone. I wonder if he knows it.

"Here." I say, putting a loop of the colorful magnets on his head. "You can be king of Buckytopia and I'll be queen and Mim will be the princess. I want a turn with Thomas, okay?" The beads stand out shockingly against his white hair, spheres and cubes of pink and green and silver and black and gold and blue and more.

"I did not agree to this, Ms. Alyas."He says, reaching up to play with his hair again, feeling the beads on his head.

"So why don't you?" I ask challengingly.

He's silent, he just starts constructing.

Is he _ignoring_ me? Is he just being a jerk and ripping me off so he can play with my magnets? =3= he'd better not be, because I'm getting a turn with Thomas the Tank Engine whether he wants me to or not. I'll hide him in my underwear drawer and not give him back if Near won't let me play with him.

"It would be a more accurate parallel if we pretended that we were construction foremen instead of royalty." He says.

We. So I won't be hiding Thomas the Tank Engine in my underwear drawer, probably. "Okay. But we're still wearing crowns."

"I hardly think that a loop of magnets qualifies as a crown."

"Well good for you, because we're construction workers."

"Then what is our motivation to wear these?"

"Because they're awesome." Obviously. What other motivation would there be?

Near, absently constructing a bowl out of the spherely ones, thinking, one hand tangled in his hair.

L, absently constructing a tower of sugar cubes, thinking, thumb pressing on his lip.

I blink and laugh slightly, in shock.

In that second, I mistook him for L.

"What is it?" He asks.

"You had an L moment."

He looks at me blankly, inquisitively.

"I was watching you build that thing, and for a second I thought you were him. Even though you don't look alike."

"You've met L." He says.

"Yeah." I say.

He doesn't question the validity of my statement like Mello did.

"If that's truly the case, then I must say I'm rather jealous of you."

Because Near aspires to be like L? I think all of them aspire to be like L, except for maybe Matt, because he's very, very laid back. "You shouldn't be. You see a bit of him every time you look in the mirror. Probably why you're his successor." So they aspire to be Ls. (cake-obsessed slobs.) It seems that Mello and Near are already socially retarded, so they're well on their way to being sociopathic, paranoid geniuses that pull everyone's strings.

…I'm gonna have my hands full…

…Why did I sign up for this? I seem to have some sort of magnetic attraction to smart people who can't take care of themselves.

Near is silent, building with the ropes of magnets. "And do you see this quality in Mello and Matt?"

"Mostly in you and Mello. But Mello is a hothead, so it's mainly you." I say.

"Tell me about your encounter with L." He says, like he's beginning an interview.

I have this feeling that Near is quite literally on my case. Be careful what I say and stuff.

"Well, I worked with him for about a month and a half." I say. "Mostly doing research on a case for him and other things he didn't want to do himself. Watari stuff."

"Where was the present Watari?"

"There was too much for one person to do." I say.

"And how did L come to find you?"

"I have connections."

"You're being very vague, Ms. Alyas."

"Thank you for that clever observation. I don't think L wants to be found by you, Near."

"I was simply trying to determine whether you told the truth or not."

"And I'm still not gonna tell you a lot, because I'm a troll not a total idiot."

"Then tell me why you're going to succeed Watari."

"Because I'm rich, pretty resourceful, and have connections. The end."

"That's not a full answer, Ms. Alyas. It sounds that you would have had a pleasant life without getting involved with L, and I assume there was at least some action on your part to attract his attention."

"Not really." I answer. "Well, maybe if I was normal. But normal people don't get to troll on youtube with other people's accounts. And then I tell them that I'm a hacker and they're left with no one to troll back." I feel the maniacal laughter coming on. Suckers.

Oh yes. I did. The impervious troll. On youtube, I do not exist. Umadbro?

"So why did you become involved with L, Ms. Alyas?" He asks, still fiddling away with his hair.

Serious Killjoy moment. I don't want to talk about this to him, just yet. Maybe I don't want to tell anyone about it, ever.

I shrug. "Truth is, it was a combination of grief, boredom, and the need to disappear."

"I see." He says. He's silent for a few moments. "Ms. Alyas, who did you lose?"

"You can't seriously expect me to answer that." Near isn't one to avoid touchy subjects, I suppose. Then again, neither was L. The similarities between them grow.

"No." He says, stacking the square cubes into a tower. "I was still testing you to check your statement again."

"Well, did I tell the truth?"

"Yes." He says. "I am 100 percent sure."

OMG score. I just got _all_ the percents! I think I should get a point for Near's awesome powers of deduction.

… But why do these genius types always answer with percents when you ask them what they think? They must be so used to thinking smartsy that they don't automatically dumb it down for anyone else. Especially when they barely talk to anyone else.

I decide that as of today, I will start a make-Near-try-new-things program, whether he likes it or not. It shall be fun. Or else.

…soon, they all won't know whether to love me or hate me.

The right answer, of course, is both.

"Why is it 100 percent, Near?" I ask. "Numbers don't count as answers unless you explain the non-math part."

"You act like you have met L. If you had not, you probably would have made up details to support your story. However, you seem reasonably intelligent, so there is a possibility that you thought ahead and lied well. You have a bold personality, you are one that I would not be surprised to see bluff. However, you don't seem to be out to gain favor of others by trying to impress them with what you think they will find impressive."

"So basically I'm a Watari because I told you next to nothing and I'm a weirdo."

"I would not base such a high percentage on so little evidence." He says. "Your very presence here supports your story. A new child is not put with the most likely successors to L's name without reason, and you do not seem to demonstrate the necessary intelligence to succeed L."

Did he just call me an idiot? I think Near just called me an idiot in big, intellectual terms. I would yell at him, but he's still talking, and curiosity about this… L-Jerk has the best of me.

"But you seem to have characteristics that one would look for when searching for a Watari. First of all, you are an unlikely candidate at first glance, especially with your obnoxious demeanor making your other traits less noticeable. But so far, you have unnerved Mello simply by telling him something, shown some proficiency in martial arts, managed to convince me to humor you, and shown some proficiency with electronic communication, judging from your many computers by your bed."

"So you're sure already?" I whine. "I haven't even done anything that cool yet!"

I think he's surprised again, but he doesn't show it. "Usually, one is happy when someone agrees that they are telling the truth."

"But that's no fun." I contradict. "Sure it's best when you're in a press for time, but we're not." I say, dragging the word out.

"You'd rather I didn't believe you." He states.

"At least not in the beginning." I pout. "The truth would come out when I actually had to do Watari stuff whether you believed me before or not. I like shouting 'I TOLD YOU SO!~' at people, so you kinda just rained on my parade… well actually you drenched it and made all the food in the picnic basket inedible and now the picnic blanket will grow mold and…" I trail off.

"Anyway, how dare you, Near! What do you mean you agree with me, my archnemisis Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia! This means war!" I shout, sending his tower of magnets flying into a wall.

Found perfect nickname for Near. Achievement unlocked.

He stares at me blankly for several seconds, trying to make the silence awkward.

"I get another point." I announce. He shall not prevail in making me _feel_ like an idiot when I already _know_ I'm an idiot. "I've dumbstrucked Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia, the hardest to dumbstruck of them all. I think you lose."

"And how do you figure that, Ms. Alyas?"

So he's not going to surrender so easily now, is he. He knows exactly how I figured that, but he refuses to laugh. Or smile. Or get mad. Or be annoyed. He refuses to be any fun at all.

"I win, because at the present moment, you aren't quite sure what to make of me."

"That's true." He admits drone-ously.

He won't even play. He's like, Boring-L.

"You're killing my joy, Near." I sigh.

"Then I suppose I win after all, Ms. Alyas." He says with a slight smirk, toying with his albino locks.

"Ooooooooh." I hiss, flinching. Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia 1, Alyas 0. "Well played, Near, well played."

LxWxL

A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to update... *surveys her crowd of seven lovely subscribers holding various instruments of torture and glaring* First, I got sick with a horrible case of laziness, and I was too lazy to write anything. And then when I finally recovered by that, I was attacked by a vicious plot bunny! Your poor Rix! CoughPleasedon'tkillmeCough

On the bright side, I finally got around to reading Death Note: Another Note (which is where the plot bunny started stalking me from) I think I love BB, too bad he's a suicidal creeper murderer bad guy thingtypething. I love him anyway. Rix will hopefully have a oneshot she's working on now based on it posted soon.

In the way of the Hourglass Chronicles of L Lawliet… *hangs head in shame* it might be a while. I have to sit down and think through the writer's block that I have on that one, it's one of the ones that you have to sit and think through, and I'm really lazy with a very short attention span. =-= #hopeless #badauthor

Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter with Near. I hope no one was OOC, and I'm slightly afraid that Alyas is becoming a Mary-Sue, which would be appalling and completely intolerable. Rix would be pounding her head on the wall if she accidentally violated the presence of dem awesome successors with a cliché OC no one likes.

I'm also a little scared that this chapter was cliché, because half the time in NearxOC romances it's toys that brings the two fools together. Sorry. It seemed to fit.

Talk to me about that if you care to review, either call me out on something or reassure me that I'm being paranoid, either is fine.

Fankschu, awls ov chu,

~Your RiX


	4. FooD iS a ToY

A/N: I know. I'm terrible. Sorry it's been a while, my case of the plot bunnies is the authorial equivalent of terminal. I hope to have yet another story *Flinch* out soon, though.

I think that it's the best fanfic I've come up with so far, but I'm not ready to post it. A week or two, no more. I think I can promise you that, maybe I can get you a prologue sooner.

Also, I'm going to _try_ to be less negligent with this story here, badger me if I start forgetting again. I don't have as much time to write as I would like, Blahblahblahfinalsandcrap, the usual stuff that seems to hinder half the authors on fanfiction.

All is not lost, my dear readers. Summer is coming and then I will live in a dimly lit room staring at a screen to create these stories for you. And possibly start calling my computer 'my precious'.

LxWxL

CHaPTeR IV: _play with your food, for _FooD iS a ToY_._

I push Thomas the tank engine up the spiraling, fancy-schmancy track, practically exploding with happiness. Not only did Near let me play with Thomas, he let me have Annie and Clarabel to drag behind them~

I feel so special~

There's clunking on the stairs. Matt must be coming up to call us for dinner, it's soon.

…It's Mello. =-=. Exactly who I didn't want to see.

His expression is somewhere between 'WTH?' and 'Ima kill you where you stand'.

Near pays him no mind, continuing to push James along the track and make soft train sounds.

…I could try to be nice and say hello…

Oh heck no.

I just got a turn with Thomas, and who knows when Sir Killjoy will let me play with him again. I'm not about to waste any of my turn with my favorite tank engine (which happens to be Near's favorite too) to argue with the homicidal barbie in mourning. And I'm already gonna have a bruise from his stupid fist.

"Ms. Alyas, will you please pass me Gordon?" Near asks, indicating the train out of his reach.

"Why certainly, Near." I say, turning my back on Mello.

Matt comes clonking up the stairs. "Look, she's a toy freak too. Now there are two of them, Mells. What are we gonna do? We might have to start labeling all the legos so they know who's is who's."

"I don't own any legos." I say. "I'm too lazy to put away pretty much anything I play with, and leaving legos around is basically turning your floor into an instrument of torture."

"Please refrain from defacing my legos." Near agrees.

"Get. Out." Mello hisses through gritted teeth.

"Uhm, Mells, I'm in the hallway, not my room. I am sort of out."

He charges me, and I have to leap out of the way. "Leave!" He snarls, trampling through the train tracks. "Get out! Go back to where you came from! Or better yet, go die in a hole!" He shouts, still assailing me. I have to dodge really fast. "No one wants you here, you little vulture! No one!"

"Actually, I have no objections to her presence." Near cuts in monotonously.

Mello kicks him in the ribs while I shoot Matt a glace. Taking his momentary distraction, I knock the wind out of him and Matt yanks his arms back. "Dude, what are you doing? Mells, calm down!"

So we have Captain Killjoy, Goggles, and the vicious emo Barbie. Love my roomates.

"What's your problem?" I demand.

"You are." He snarls, deathglaring.

"So ignore me! What in the world motivates you to attack me, and anyone who takes my side," I contemplate, gesturing to the injured Near, "the instant you enter the hall I'm in? Do you need psychological help or something? Seriously Mells, go take some anger management classes."

"Don't _you_ tell _me_ what to do!"

"Really, I think it would be a good thing for you." I say, Ignoring him and chewing on my finger. "I hear that sometimes they give you out the foamy stress-reliever balls and those are super fun. Maybe I'll go with you… actually, let's all sign up for group therapy. Don't you think that would be fun? We could deal with Mello's anger problems, Near's antisocial tendencies, and Matt's videogame addiction all at once!"

"Group therapy won't correct your dementia." Mello snarls.

"Videogames are the stuff of heaven. It's people who can't see that that have the problems."

"I have no desire to become a social person, Ms. Alyas."

I had a feeling they would say that. "You do realize the whole proposal of us going to deal with mental problems is just so we can go to drive the therapist mad." I point out.

I'm greeted with an unenthusiastic silence and an 'I-told-you-so' scoff from Mello.

"No? Okay then. Whatever." I say with a shrug. "Near, are your ribs okay?"

"They will be fine, Ms. Alyas."

"Alright then… I survey the ruined train tracks. What the heck are we gonna call what just happened to Sodor Island?"

"I'm not quite sure, Ms. Alyas. Perhaps we should call it a storm of some sort."

"Okay. Okayokayokay. I got one. On the tenth of June, Hurricane Mello ravaged the island of Sodor. The railway lines are in ruins. It's up to Thomas, his friends, and the brilliantly awesome construction people who are super awesome to restore all the tracks." I narrate. "So we're construction people again."

"So it seems." Near agrees.

"Do you have any cranes or anything by any chance?" I ask, still watching the mess.

Near comes back with two cranes and some construction trucks. I get a bulldozer and start pushing it onto the scattered wooden tracks, bringing them over to where Near is trying to correct an arch with a crane.

Mello and Matt just stare at us awkwardly.

"Um, why are you guys staring at us?"

"Oh." Matt seems to snap out of it. "It's nothing."

"Is it because you want to help rebuild Sodor too?" I ask, owling. "It would be fine if you did, because we need all the help we can get, right Near?"

"I suppose." He answers, busy lifting a track from the pile I've pushed over and twisting his hair.

"As much as I want to help you… pretend to rebuild… Sodor…" Matt says reluctantly.

"You don't." I say bluntly, letting my eyes flick to him for a moment. Obviously, someone here can't understand the immortal magic of playing with toys.

"And it's time for dinner." He finishes, letting Mello go.

Mello slugs him in the stomach and stalks off.

So they're friends, because Mello isn't trying to kill him. Mello just can't stand letting anyone else making the last move/winning.

"He's really not that bad." Matt says, once Mello is out of earshot.

"Doubtlessly." I reply.

Matt sighs. "If you wait too much longer, all the food will be gone."

"kay." I say absently, trying to make a crane pick up a piece of train track.

Footsteps on the stairs. The door opens, the door shuts.

"Do you want to sit together at dinner or do you want some time to yourself?" I ask Near, trying to drop the track in exactly the right spot. I don't want to overwhelm Near, then he might not want me around, and that would mean no more trains.

…Yes, I can be bribed with trains.

"I'd prefer to eat alone." He answers monotonously.

I nod. "Well, I want food. If I don't eat, then I start feeling the effects of sleep deprivation..." And some… _special_ things happen to my mental state.

"Very well, Ms. Alyas." He says, taking the ring of buckyballs off his head and holding them out to me. "Perhaps we'll do this again sometime."

"Keep them." I say, shutting his hand around them.

Looks at them for a second and then slips them into his pocket and goes back to the trains.

"Come down soon, because I'ma eat _all_ the food." Food… I like food. I really, really like food. I'm hungry. No, I'm starving.

"I doubt you'll be able to."

"Heh. We'll see about that." I'm off to find the food.

The halls are deserted. Everyone must already be at dinner. What if the food is already gone? What if there's no more! Gah! That would be terrible! I take off running down the halls, jumping down the stairs, beelining for the mess hall. ! I'm coming!

STOP!

I freeze right outside of the mess hall, which is buzzing with noise. There are people in there.

I peek around the door, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I don't like having a lot of people scrutinizing me. I mean, it's fine if it's a few people, like just Mello, Matt and Near who think I'm more eccentric than the orbit of Halley's comet, but if everyone starts noticing me that could really get in the way and… holy paranoia, I don't feel like meeting anyone else.

"Hey! There she is!" Matt calls.

Gah! Nonono, Matt you're blowing my cover!

Then I notice that he has two heaping plates of amazing food and immediately start fantasizing that one's for me.

"Hey beautiful, you're drooling." He informs me.

"No, really? You'd think there was a pile of awesome, amazingly amazing yummy-delicious food right in front of me distracting me from all thoughts coherent." I answer, staring at the pile of creamy mashed potatoes drowned in gravy.

"Oh, well then, here." He says, holding one out to me.

I take it like it's the Holy Grail. Screw the Holy Grail, this plate has mashed potatoes. Must. Not. Faceplant. In. Awesomeness.

You know what? The plate has mashed potatoes on it. My argument is invalid. ATTACK! OMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM!

"Uh..."

"Get me a red hat and call me Santa Claus." I mutter through another mouthful.

"Seriously, we could. It's all over your face."

"Oh dear, I must look like a freak." I say, spiraling into depression.

"Maybe a little."

I narrow my eyes in annoyance. That's when you're supposed to say something nice instead of admitting I'm right. "Well I suppose I'll just have to fix that, won't I?"

He offers me a napkin.

"Actually, I had another solution in mind." I say, wiping a mittful of mashed potatoes all over his face.

He stands there for a second. Then: "You're going down."

"Hnnnnnnnnn?" I ask, owling at him right in his face, spoon jutting out of my mouth.

"We'll be stuck in the room playing videogames for at least three days, and for the record it's all your fault." He says, toying with his plate and smirking. "FOOD FIGHT!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, dumping the plate all over my head.

"Oh it's on, Matt! My Mashed-Santa-Clause-Potato-Beard and I will bury you alive!" I shout, thrusting my plate at him. It spatters food all over him, but he just whirls and tosses some bread at some kid at a random table to spread the warfare.

Hello, chaos. It's been a while.

There are always a few who catch on fast, the food is already flying. The kitchen aids are making no attempt to stop us. Nothing interesting must ever happen here. Oops, lie, forgot I'm dodging rolls like a boss. I swipe a kid's plate and start hurling food at everything moving.

LOL IT'S EVERYWHERE! I sprint for the rapidly depleting buffet and snatch a piping metal dish of chicken cutlets. Ouchhotouchhotouchhot- DUCK! Matt is just flinging one handful of lasagna after another at me. I start retaliating with my chicken cutlets, pelting him with them. "FEAR THE BREADED MEAT!" I yell at the top of my lungs.

I sense someone behind me and whirl just in time to have a cake whistle over my head. Mello. He changes the course of the speeding cake, and I have to pull a fancy move to avoid having it smashed on my back. I duck behind a chair. "NONONO! Mells! You're doing it totally wrong!" I shout, grabbing a handful of the fallen cake(it's sacrifice will not be wasted). "If you have a cake, you fling mittfuls of it at people! The wild Alyas used cake-throw!" I hurl it at him, and it directly hits his forehead. "It's super effective! The wild Mells is dumbstrucked by the awesome!"

He charges me, yelling expletives, only to be pelted by lasagna. I dart over to Matt, fling chairs out of the way, and tip the table. "This is my fort, you're inside it. You can either be my ally or meet your demise at the hands of my mashed potato Santa Beard. The choice is entirely yours."

"How can I say no when you put it like that?" He laughs, still catapulting lasagna. Another direct hit on Mello. "Dude, you'd better get in a fort before I lasagna you to death!" He shouts at him.

Mello tips a table that still has stuff on it, causing glass and ceramics to smash everywhere.

Of course, that's the moment Near chooses to walk in. He surveys the situation emotionlessly, twirling his hair.

"If you're not for us, you're against us!" Matt shouts, spattering sauce and cheese all over Near's white shirt. I crack up.

"Well he's sure not on my team!" Mello retorts, hurling corn on the cob at him.

"Matt, Mello, please do not pelt me with food. I do not wish to become involved."

"Yeah? Too bad. You walked in." Mello sneers, landing a tart on his shoulder, because the idiot isn't even dodging.

"If you don't want food all over you get in the fort, Captain Killjoy! This is a warzone!" I yell.

He makes his way over to the fort and crouches behind the table. "I came here to eat dinner, but it seems you're already wreaking havoc."

"Matt started it."

"What? Oh please, babe. This is all your fault."

"_I'm_ not the one who declared war."

"I think this alliance is over!" He says, throwing a lasagna ball at me.

"I'd agree."

"Please, negotiate your terms. I came behind this table because I did not want to get food on me." Near interrupts. "It would be pointless to be back here if you two are throwing food behind the table as well as out from it.

"Killjoy." I mutter.

"How should we go about defeating the opposition?" Matt asks, quickly moving on.

"We should lower their morale by confiscating vital sustenance. I saw a chocolate bar in Mello's back pocket when he was failing to bash me with the cake." I say.

"We must also keep in mind that such a tactic will infuriate the enemy." Near says, surprising me again by joining the game. "I agree that it is a favorable strategy, because it will make Mello irrational, but first we must be sure we can withstand an onslaught of his unbridled wrath."

"Uh, we're hiding behind a flimsy table, throwing food." Matt says. "I think that if he gets in here, we're pretty much screwed, but pissing him off sounds like fun, so let's do it anyway."

"I do not want to sustain any injuries from this affair." Near says.

"He'll be too busy trying to kill us, probably. I'm going in. Matt, cover me from the base. We need a catapult thingy to hurl the contents of all these trays of mac-n-cheese and shrimp and stuff. Near, think of something smart while I'm gone."

"Sure thing." Matt says, moving onto an untouched vegetable casserole that stinks.

I dive over the table and pull a bunch of fancy martial arts moves to make it across the mess hall to Mello's table. I leap up and land behind him. "Hey Mells!~" I singsong "I'm in your base, stealing your supplies!~" I say, grabbing some random pie like that was the reason I came.

Mello lunges for me, moving to tackle me.

We go down hard, I smash the pie on the back of his head as he crushes my other arm into my body. I yank the chocolate out of his pocket and take his moment of surprise to knee his stomach and escape.

Like a boss. "The prize has been captured! I repeat, the prize has been captured!" I shout, bolting.

"Fire in the hole!" Matt bellows, and then a giant wad of macaroni and cheese flies at me. I hit the ground in a crouch and spring forward, but Mello isn't so lucky. He gets pelted with the stuff.

"Nice!" I shout, diving back into our fort. "The prize is ours. Someone stroke it and repeat 'My Precious' over and over again."

"Yeah, a little busy PWNING N00BS here!" Matt says, catapulting shrimp so they rain like arrows. Some stick to Mello's cheesy front.

"Oh, by the way, that's quite a lovely catapult you've built there, Near."

"Thank you, Ms. Alyas."

"Oh CRAP! DUDE he's COMING!" Matt shouts.

"Man your positions! Near, get the catapult! Matt, throw disgusting vegies! I'll protect the precious from the wrath of the fool!" I cry, slipping the chocolate bar into the waist of my pants.

"You're DEAD!" Mello yells, charging with a HUGE pot of tomato soup. Near's catapult of salad hits, but he just keeps coming.

He drenches all three of us in the hot liquid, and who should choose that moment to enter but Foolder (Roger, remember?). With an extremely displeasured look on his face. He's immediately hit with a mango.

I start laughing like a maniac, loose my balance, and fall on my side in the fort.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

I have a feeling that all the food has stopped flying, but I'm still on the floor, convulsing hysterically. His expression was just so… so… _priceless._

"Who started this?"

Everyone is silent.

I slowly peek up over the edge of the fort. The atmosphere is suddenly heavy with Foolder's wrath, but I'm still high from the fight and if anything, the pressure of being caught is heightening the sensation. It takes all of my control not to burst out laughing from all the energy building up in me. The adrenaline really started to kick in.

"I said, who started this?"

"She did." Mello spits, fingering me. "That crazy girl. Near helped her."

"What?" I ask, completely convincing.

"I did no such thing."

"I saw the whole thing, you smashed your plate into Matt." He says calmly, pointing at me. "And you set it up so both of them would be surrounded with things to throw. Don't think I didn't notice that." He thinks he's won.

"Hey! No I didn't! Just because you hate me doesn't make it okay to lie and get me in trouble, Mello!" I retort.

"You." Foolder says, eyes narrowing at me. He's probably just looking to get me in trouble too, he has it out for me.

"Yes?" I ask, owling at him.

"You started this."

"Nope. Totally wrong." I say, like I have nothing to be worried about. "Try again."

He starts like he's going to sentence me. "You're-

"Hey, it was me, okay? I was the one who shouted Food Fight." Matt says. "You got me, guilty as charged."

Foolder's eyes narrow further. "It was all of you, wasn't it? All four of you."

"If it was me, I wouldn't have drawn attention to myself by telling you it was him and her, because anyone can tell you that they started it." All the other children are silent, content to just watch the show.

"I just started throwing food because it was being thrown at me, just like everybody else." I say indignantly. "And really, is Near the type of person to organize a food fight? Just totally not his style."

"Oh, I know it was you." Foolder insists. "You're a real troublemaker, I knew it from the start. And you were the first person to be mentioned."

"By Mello, who hates me for no apparent reason. Yep, that's a reliable testimony." I retort.

"This has nothing to do with how I utterly loathe and despise you, because it doesn't affect the fact that you started it." Mello says smugly.

"Don't think that you're off the hook." Rodger says. "You have that look in your eyes that says you were 100 percent involved. It was all of you. All four of you."

"I did not enter the mess hall until long after the food fight started. Anyone can testify to that. There was no conceivable way I could have organized it's beginnings if it happened spontaneously. Matt and Ms. Alyas can testify to the fact that I have not left the suite since lunch." Near says cooly.

"And yet you're hiding behind a knocked down table with the admitted starter of this outrage and the prime suspect for his accomplice. Don't give me that." Mello says.

"I simply wished to avoid being hit by food as much as possible, so I sought shelter."

"Instead of leaving." Mello says. "You're just as involved as they are, you made the catapult."

"I did nothing of the sort."

"SILENCE!" Roger bellows. Then his voice just becomes tired and irritated. "Everyone is confined to their suites tomorrow, save for meals. No exceptions." He says. "You four are confined to your suite for a week and will only be permitted to come to breakfast and lunch. No exceptions."

Cake for dinner and cookies and sugary treats for dinner for the next week then, I guess.

This punishment is so terrible I don't know how I'll ever bear it. It's not like I have Matt and Near and my 50 bajillion computers.

"Now get out, everyone, just get out. I have to yell at the staff for not even trying to stop you." He says, pressing on his temple.

I sigh and slouch out of the fort, dripping tomato soup. The joy has been killed. Everyone leaves the mess hall in stony silence.

Mello has the nerve to give me a smug look in the hall.

One does not mock me without being trolled. Yes Mello, you totally won.

"I must say, I feel obligated to admit defeat to you." I say, offering my tomato-soup covered hand to him. He stares at it in surprise. "Not only did you manage to get yourself in just as much trouble as Matt and I for something that we started, you've also trapped yourself in a small apartment with me for an entire week. But really that won't be terrible, because I'm an awesome cook." Oh, this is going to be fun.

"Either way, I'd like to commend your remarkable ability to create plans cleverly designed to backfire on you at a moment's notice." I finish. "I don't think this could have been more fun if I tried."

He looks like he's ready to kill me again, but Matt jumps to my rescue. "A week shut in the suite with nothing but my enormous pile of videogames. Whatever will I do?" He mutters with amusement. "That was totally worth it."

"I still wish that you had not begun such an irrational conflict." Near says.

"Oh, come on!" I groan, looking back at him, because he's several steps behind me. "Near, you loved it. It was like a playing with toys, but it was food. You got right behind the table and made a freaking catapult. You even started strategizing with us. Don't pretend you weren't totally into that."

"In spite of your tendency to do stupid things you are clever, Ms. Alyas."

"Nice cover-up, Near." I retort.

He's silent.

Alyas 1, Near 1. Don't count me out just yet.

LxWxL

A/N: Wow. This story is quickly deteriorating to stereotypical crap. I know, I'm aware, sorry.

But I'm having fun, so I'll keep writing anyway~

LOLDERHERHERIFEELPSYCHOPATHIC!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I'll try to update soon, I have finals in my way so it might be a couple weeks. I certainly hope not, see what I can do… I think I might have said this already.

And remember, _RiXCHaN loooooooooooooooooooooves youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu~_

Okay. I'm done. Kthxbai.

~Your Rix.


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